Away In a Manger
by rebeldivaluv
Summary: Modern AU. A Camelot Nativity. In which Morgana knows everything, Gwaine is a holy terror, Leon wears another dress, and Arthur hates everyone. Especially Lancelot.


**Title:** Away In a Manger  
**Fandom:** Merlin  
**Pairing:** Gen, ensemble  
**Rating:** G  
**Spoilers: **None  
**Summary: **For the Arthur & Gwen Holiday Fest on LiveJournal. Prompt was: _OT4 (+other characters) as children, doing their school nativity play :P (Bonus points if Arthur plays the donkey!)_ by prydwen-magic.

"I'm not a child anymore!"

Arthur rolled his eyes. Ever since Morgana had her tenth birthday a few months ago, she acted like she was more grown-up than everyone. Even actual grown-ups.

"Besides, everyone knows it's a made-up story. Believing in angels and Jesus and all that is no better than…than believing in Father Christmas!" She shot a pointed glance at her half-brother.

Arthur turned away, pretending not to notice. He couldn't stop the red from climbing into his cheeks, though, as he remembered crying himself hoarse last year when he was finally convinced there was no Father Christmas. Morgana, of course, had been the one to tell him.

He frowned at the rain splattering down the car windows as dreary, gray London rolled past. He wished it would snow. He wished they could spend Christmas in the country, like his best friend Merlin was going to do. But Dad had to work. Again.

"I don't want to hear you talk like that anymore, Morgana," their father ordered from the front seat. "Be good for Father Geoffrey, and do as you're told."

Morgana huffed a half-hearted assent.

A few minutes later, they pulled up in front of the old church. Dad dropped them off at the curb—he had an important Cabinet meeting this afternoon—and told them to ring when they were done.

Arthur and Morgana ran through the drizzle to the church's side door. It was propped open, and the noise and chaos within filtered out. Ducking inside, Arthur let his eyes take in the scene.

Vivian King, the most spoiled child Arthur knew, was stomping her foot and growing red in the face as she glared up at her father. "I don't _want_ to be a sheep. I _want_ to be MARY!"

Leon was on the other side of the room, next to a harassed woman holding out a white costume. "I won't!" he insisted, arms crossed in stubborn defiance. "I won't, and you can't make me."

Gwaine rushed past, screaming like a banshee, brandishing a shepherd's crook.

Merlin chased after him. "Give that back! It's mine!"

Arthur, trying to be helpful, stuck out his foot for Gwaine to trip over. It worked beautifully. Gwaine tumbled to the floor and lost his hold on Merlin's prop in the process. To his credit, Gwaine didn't cry at all. He was up in a flash and tackled Arthur to the ground, where they spent the next few minutes in a flurry of fists, knees and elbows. Every once in a while, Arthur felt an additional blow from the crook as Merlin tried to pry them apart.

"Boys! Boys! How could you? This is a place of worship." Soft-spoken Father Geoffrey succeeded in pulling Gwaine off of Arthur.

Arthur, who had, until then, been having a cracking good time, felt suddenly guilty at the disappointment on the old reverend's face. "Sorry, Father," he muttered and heard Gwaine do the same.

"I forgive you. Just don't let it happen again. Now, Gwaine, shouldn't you be trying on your costume?"

"Sure thing, Father." Gwaine scampered in the direction of the costume mistress. Leon had finally been forced into his costume, which seemed to be a long, frilly dress.

"As for you, Arthur Pendragon, let me see…" Father Geoffrey consulted a clipboard in his hand. "Your sister is the narrator, and you are…"

_Anything but a dress_, Arthur thought desperately. He crossed his fingers for luck.

"A donkey," Father Geoffrey announced.

Merlin burst out laughing.

"Shut up, _Mer_lin." Arthur would have hit him, too, if the pastor hadn't been standing right there.

"The animals are gathering over there." Father Geoffrey gestured to a small recess near the stage. "Go and join them; there's a good lad. And, Merlin, oughtn't you to rejoin the shepherds?"

Arthur turned his back on a still snickering Merlin, but he needed one last glance at Leon—trying to rip off his dress while Gwaine roared with laughter—before he could make himself approach the "barn," as he decided to call it.

Vivian was there now, a sheep costume at her side, while she cried and screamed and writhed on the floor. A short distance away from her, little Elena watched her with wide eyes. Elena's face was as grimy as usual, her nose was runny, and her uncombed hair was only partly concealed by her cow costume.

Elena turned toward Arthur as he sat down. "I don't know what she's crying about. I'm a cow. I'm _always_ a cow. Every year, I ask to be an angel, and every year, they make me a cow." She sniffed mucus up her nose with a loud _squelch_ then wiped the rest away with her sleeve. "What are you?"

"Donkey," Arthur mumbled.

No sooner had he said so than another frazzled-looking woman plopped a hood with two long, furry, grey ears on his head.

Elena giggled.

Arthur glared at her, then sank into a corner, wishing he could disappear, wishing this whole stupid day was over. Morgana wasn't right about much of anything, but this time, he agreed with her. He wished they'd never come.

He heard Morgana's voice now and saw her following around after Father Geoffrey. She was shaking a sheaf of papers in her hand. "This is all wrong. How could Jesus be born in December if the shepherds were in the fields? And this nonsense about following a star—stars are millions of light-years away. They can help you find a direction, but they can't lead you to one specific spot on earth. That's ridiculous."

Father Geoffrey looked relieved when Olaf King approached him. Until Vivian's father started asking him to change his daughter's role. "All casting is final, no exceptions." The preacher walked away from a disappointed Olaf and an irate Morgana, who took out a pen and started crossing lines out of her script.

Gwaine had joined up with Percival and Elyan. All were wearing dashing capes and golden crowns. Arthur felt a swift wave of jealousy over not being one of the Three Kings, which only intensified when Gwaine realized his gift of gold was actually chocolate coins.

"Hello, Arthur."

Arthur looked up at the smiling boy in front of him. It was Lancelot, the new kid. He was dressed in a simple brown tunic, nothing as awesome as the kings, but not as humiliating as an angel dress. Or donkey ears. "Hiya, Lance. What are you, a shepherd?"

"No, I'm Joseph," Lancelot said proudly.

"Lucky you." Arthur had a sudden urge to kick him in the shins. Donkeys kicked people, right?

"Lancelot, they're ready for us onstage." Guinevere put a hand on his arm. She was dressed in blue from head to foot. No need to ask who she was. In the first piece of casting Arthur understood, Guinevere Thomas, the kindest and—not that Arthur would ever admit it to a living soul—prettiest girl he knew, was playing Mary.

And Lancelot was Joseph. Arthur really wished he'd kicked him.

"Oh, hello, Arthur. Come on, Lance." She tugged impatiently on his arm. With a shrug and a wave, Lance followed her to the stable set up center stage.

Vivian stopped her fit long enough to glare at Gwen's retreating back. "I would look so much prettier in that dress than she does!" With her face all splotchy, red, and swollen from crying, Vivian looked about as pretty as a rotten tomato.

Arthur told her so.

Her face scrunched up in a fresh wave of misery, and she yelled, "I'm telling my daddy on you!" before running off in tears.

Vivian's screams were far from the only noise in the room, even though Gwen and Lance were trying to rehearse onstage.

Judging by the number of gold wrappers littering the floor, the Wise Men had eaten all the chocolate, and Baby Jesus would be short one Christmas gift. Elyan and Percival were playing some form of tag among the pews. Gwaine had gotten hold of another shepherd's staff—not Merlin's; Merlin seemed to be pretending his was a wand—and was using it to flip up Leon's dress. Morgana was loudly lecturing anyone who would listen on how Christmas was a fraud and a lie. Next to Arthur, Elena sneezed, spraying bogies everywhere.

Arthur had reached his limit. He threw his donkey ears on the floor, stomped on them, and ran over to Merlin. He grabbed a staff from the floor. "Stop playing Harry Potter, Merlin. Let's have a sword fight!"

Merlin groaned but obediently turned his wand into a sword. Arthur was steadily beating his friend back into the wall when one voice rose above all the tumult—

"ENOUGH!"

Arthur's "sword" clattered to the floor. Silence fell as everyone looked toward the source of the command. Gwen stood at the front of the stage, microphone in hand, as she surveyed the frozen bedlam.

"Do any of you realize how disrespectful you're being? To Father Geoffrey? To the volunteers? Even to those of us trying to do what we're supposed to do?" She sighed and shook her head. Arthur felt more ashamed than when Father Geoffrey caught him fighting.

"Elyan, Percy, Gwaine, pick up those sweet wrappers. Now."

Elyan moved at once to do his sister's building. Percival soon followed, his tall frame slumped in embarrassment. At first, Gwaine sneered and crossed his arms in rebellion, but when Gwen kept her steady gaze on him, he threw down the staff and stomped after the other two, with an unhappy, "Fine!"

"Morgana, either read the lines as written, or don't say anything at all."

Morgana turned pink with fury but, surprisingly, held her tongue. Arthur would have to ask Gwen how she did that.

"Leon, quit complaining. It's not a dress. You're an angel. It's a _robe_."

"Dress," Arthur and Merlin whispered simultaneously, which cracked them both up.

Their ill-timed laughter turned Gwen's attention to them. They hushed immediately. Arthur fidgeted and looked at the floor.

"There are no swordfights in the nativity. Merlin, go sit with the shepherds. Arthur, what happened to your costume?"

Arthur returned to the barn, while Father Geoffrey took the microphone from Gwen and joked about making _her_ director next year. Arthur thought that sounded like a pretty good idea.

For the rest of rehearsal, he did exactly as he was told. He didn't run off or mess around or kick Lancelot in the shins—even though he wanted to every time Lancelot held Gwen's hand. The few times other kids acted out, one glance from Gwen was enough to quell them.

When it came time to rehearse the journey to Bethlehem, Father Geoffrey and his assistants debated how to stage it—if Gwen should walk behind Arthur, or if they should put some sort of plants in front.

Arthur spoke up. "I'm strong, and Guinevere's small. She can sit on my back." He puffed his chest out proudly and couldn't resist a smug look at Lancelot.

In the end, that was what happened. Gwen sat on Arthur's back as he crawled the short distance from the stage entrance to the stable. He barely felt her weight, and he brayed most convincingly. Once in the stable, he got to curl up by Gwen's side, far closer to her than "Joseph" on the other side of the manger.

Arthur was rather enjoying being a donkey until the Three Kings entered, and Gwaine announced, "Pendragon, you look like an ass."

Everyone onstage laughed, and Arthur felt his face go hot. If Gwaine had been close enough, he _would_ have kicked him.

Then Arthur noticed something. One person wasn't laughing. Guinevere smiled, stretched out her hand, and scratched his fake donkey ears. "I think you look sweet."

At that moment, Arthur wouldn't have traded being the donkey for any other role in the play.

Especially Leon's.

**_fin_**


End file.
